Identity Politics

The other day I was walking down the street with a couple of friends. We were discussing our next moves and how me were trying to move forward with our plans. Out of nowhere, gunshots rang out. We quickly figured out where they were coming from, ducked down, and moved away from their source. We started walking again and some more gunshots rang out.

After we determined that there were no more shots coming, we began again to walk down the street. As we were passing a certain house, several little, skinny, young boys came out. All of them had their pants hanging off their asses and they were talking a lot of shit. I could tell by the way they carried themselves that none of them could bust a grape in a fruit fight.

One of them had a gun in his hand, a snub nose revolver. It was the kind of gun that no matter how well it was made, it needed to be used a very close range to be effective. Every one of them looked like the kind of guys that turn their guns to the side to look tough. They don’t understand that the sights are on top for a reason. Fortunately, no one got shot. But, everyone was in danger because bullets don’t have names and addresses on them.

As I look back on the incident, I realize that I had absolutely no fear of getting hurt or of the fools that we saw trying to act tough. I am not claiming that I am some kind of tough guy. They just had absolutely no effect on me. Something about the whole situation, and those boys especially, was cartoonish and surreal. This generation of young men coming up after me doesn’t have a chance if these are its representatives.

The whole incident got me thinking about how I define myself as a Black person and how I am just lumped into a group by a process that is totally beyond my control. From a certain perspective, being Black or anything else is an accident of birth. Black consciousness is manufactured, regardless of its validity, usefulness, or necessity. Not fully understanding this, I have allowed myself, at times, to be reactionary over situations not of my choosing. I have aligned myself with people and ideologies in which I might not otherwise indulge or with which I might not agree.

I realized recently that I have very few non-Black friends, when earlier in life I had friends of all persuasions. The more I consider this, the more that I know that I don’t want to play this game by these rules any more. I can’t, in good conscious, align myself with this “thing” any more. I am choosing to be myself and choosing with whom I align myself. I can’t continue to deal with life strictly or even partly from the perspective of skin color.

A wise man once talked about being judged on the content of one’s character instead of by the color of one’s skin. That idea was really subversive and ultimately was one of the things that got him murdered. Still, the idea is beautiful and worth integrating into my life in a very real way.

I have also been looking back at my own interactions and have considered my own shortcomings. I have participated in support of and celebrations of people in my racial/ethnic group who should not have been supported or celebrated. I have defended people in arguments that should have been left alone or to their own devices. And I have allowed people to slide that I should have hemmed up or gotten away from.

I can’t waste any more time or energy on this old model. I can’t afford to support people who really wouldn’t care about me if they didn’t need me. I can’t be concerned with these con artists and users who seek a paycheck, a free ride, and reverence for the pseudo-official yet unelected positions. I just can’t be part of that any more.

Also, on a more personal level, I can’t continue to indulge in a level of inclusiveness that borders on self destructive. I can’t unconsciously be swept up in identifications with people that I would not want in my neighborhood. I also can’t let others define what I identify as my causes based on group-think, assumptions, and faulty reasoning. Supporting without question anything just because it has Black on it isn’t worth doing anymore.

When I look around at other so-called races or ethnic groups, they never hesitate to distance themselves from members of their groups that display inappropriate behavior. I have seen White people that are quick to call other White people "redneck" or "white trash" in public without fear of a fire storm. They are totally unafraid of disavowing or ostracizing someone from their groups when they deem it appropriate.

When I compare the outward behavior of different racial groups, I have seen no other group besides Black people that cringes at the thought of someone that they don’t know and may never meet reflects badly on the group. Somewhere in all of that is a misplaced sense of responsibility. Black folks get lumped together without their consent and profiled in all of their interactions. That doesn’t mean that I have to like it or bow to participating in it. I would prefer to analyze the situation and act or react accordingly.

At the core of all of this, I think that I am in transition. I feel that I am moving to a state that many people in the next generation have attained naturally and without personal drama. I am changing from someone who has functioned on a race-centric or race-conscious mode to someone who is focused on developing his own identity and focused on being true to himself. I feel the need to more carefully choose my friends based on their value as people. I want to be involved in situations and people who are really worth something. Just being Black is not reason enough for anything anymore.